


Showers Are Evil

by silentdescant



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen, Humor, c - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-24
Updated: 2008-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:21:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard tells him that showers are evil, but Frank doesn’t listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showers Are Evil

Frank slides into the hotel bathroom in his socks, bumping his hip against the sharp corner of the doorframe and ignoring Gerard’s shout of “Showers are evil, just come on!” He closes the door behind him and twists on the taps, waiting a few moments until he can see steam billowing out from behind the flimsy curtain.

“We’re gonna be late!” Gerard calls, pounding on the door. “Hurry up!”

“I’ll be quick!” Frank shouts back, yanking his boxers and pyjama pants down and then bashing his shoulder against the wall when he bends to take off his socks.

He steps into the shower and immediately jams the big toe of his left foot against the drain. “Fuck!” he grunts, already reaching for the soap. He drops it, of course, and slips when he tries to pick it up, his shin crashing into the edge of the tub. “Shit, fuck, shit!” he shouts.

Frank stays on his knees while he lathers himself up, because he figures he’s less likely to fall over that way. He scrubs his body quickly with his hands, realizing too late that he’d forgotten a washcloth. He decides to settle for mostly-clean and grabs the shampoo from the little shelf, rising unsteadily to his feet.

He squirts some into his hand, then drops the bottle. It’s big, and it lands on his left toe, which really fucking _hurts_ , but Frank manages to keep his mouth shut this time. He slathers the stuff on top of his head, working it in roughly with his ragged fingernails. His scalp feels scratched to shit, but he doesn’t see any blood, which is a plus.

As soon as he ducks under the spray to rinse, the fucking shampoo drips into his eyes, and he cries out wordlessly in frustration. He searches blindly for the washcloth until he remembers he didn’t have one, and sticks his face under the jet of water. His eyes sting and water even after they’re rinsed clean.

Frank decides to bypass the conditioner; with the way this shower’s going, he might accidentally kill himself with it. Instead, he twists the taps sharply to get the water off. It turns boiling hot, and Frank nearly screams, yanking at it desperately. He shouts, “Turn off, turn the fuck off, you fucking fuck!”

Gerard knocks on the door again. “Frank! Hurry up! We’re going to be _late_!”

After turning frigidly cold, the water finally shuts off, leaving Frank shivering and standing awkwardly, trying not to put weight on his injured toe. Frank sticks his hand out through the gap in the curtain, feeling around for his towel, and overbalances. He feels himself falling and grabs the shower curtain to steady himself, which turns out to be a big mistake because the thing is really fucking cheap and it rips right off its hooks.

Frank tumbles to the floor, yanking his towel off the wall in the process, and lands in a puddle of water and soggy fabric.

Gerard bursts in, his eyes wide, his hair a greasy mess atop his head. “What the fuck?” he asks frantically.

“You’re right,” Frank mumbles from the floor. “Showers are evil.”

Gerard extends a hand to help Frank to his feet. “I _told_ you. Now come _on_ , you can get dressed on the bus.”

  
 _fin_.


End file.
